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Chapter 30
Cash
Staringdownatthewoman who holds my heart sitting cozily with my brother has me gripping my fists together, trying to stop myself from reaching out to her. “I was just coming to see if you were okay.” When Grace doesn’t react, likely thinking I’m talking to Carter, I ask again, “Are you…okay?”
Carter puts his hand on Grace’s knee and squeezes. What is with my siblings suddenly having a relationship with my ex-girlfriend? Especially Cat. Suddenly she’s her client, then her friend, and now Grace is at her engagement party to Jonathan Hanson. It’s like I walked into the twilight zone.
“I think he’s talking to you,” Carter says in a low voice.
Grace looks at him and then up to me, and I nod.
“Oh. I’m fine,” she stutters. She looks so beautiful that it actually hurts to look directly at her. It’s the first time tonight I’ve been close enough to see her violet eyes. I will myself to keep my gaze on hers, to soak her in and not turn away. No matter how much it hurts to see the normal warmth missing from her gaze.
“Do you think we could talk?” I ask.
Grace’s eyes dart to Carter and then back down to the book in his hand. Carter squeezes her leg again, hands her back the book, and whispers something in her ear. Then he stands, makes his way to me, and grabs my arm before he walks out. “Go easy on her, okay?”
I’m not sure when I turned into the villain. We were all victims to Vanessa’s scheme. I didn’t handle it well, I lashed out, but I’ve already told Carter I know I was wrong. Why is he acting like Grace needs protecting? Like I would do anything to hurt her. All I want to do is figure out a way to speak to her. To get through to her. To apologize.
I give a curt nod and turn back to Grace. She’s fiddling with the book in her hand, clearly attempting not to look at me.
“Do you want to go for a walk?” I ask, nervous to be alone in this room with her. Sitting down next to her seems too dangerous. Last time we were on this porch I watched her paint a picture of us dancing beneath the stars. I pressed her against this window and dragged kisses down her throat. I held her and told her I loved her. And I thought we had forever.
I never imagined I’d be afraid to get too close. She was never close enough.
Grace doesn’t respond right away. She keeps her eyes on something that I can’t quite make out. When I take a few steps closer to see what she’s staring at, she slams the book closed and puts it down on the coffee table. “Sure. Just…give me a minute. I want to run to the bathroom. I’ll meet you outside?”
I nod. A minute would be good. I could use that time to figure out what I’m actually going to say. She gets up and walks around the coffee table, putting more distance between us.
I shake my head in frustration. This is going to be difficult.
Curiosity gets the best of me, and I walk over and pick up the book Grace and Carter had been looking at. Close up I now see that it’s a photo album. I open it and am caught staring at a picture of a little girl with a big smile and my brother. He must have been about four or five here. I go to move to the next page and find my mother holding a young Cat.
Unprepared for the emotions that arise, I cover my mouth, continuing my perusal of the photos. There are images of the little girl and my brother and sister looking up as they eat mac and cheese. Another one they are running on the back lawn at sunset. Then there is a picture of just my mother and a woman who looks like a younger version of Grace’s boss, Marion.
That’s when it hits me. The little girl, the one in the pictures, is Grace.
“Holy shit,” I whisper to myself.
I flip back to the first picture, and sure enough, Grace’s purple eyes draw me in. I look through the pictures again and know precisely which picture Carter and Grace were looking at when I walked in. The photo that had Grace gripping her stomach and swearing it meant nothing.
My mother smiles and looks down at a young Grace who kisses my mother’s bump. My eyes fall shut as I feel my mother’s presence weighing on me. And shame.
The shame I feel is all-encompassing. I destroyed a woman who my mother looked at with adoring eyes. A woman who as a child sat at my mother’s legs and kissed her pregnant belly with me in it.
Photos of my mother are practically nonexistent thanks to my father’s selfishness. I’ve never seen a single photo of my mother pregnant with me.
Any thought that I wouldn’t win Grace back, that I wouldn’t do everything in my power to make her mine again, disintegrates. Grace was meant to be mine, and I was hers long before I met her.
We’re written in the stars, recorded in the constellations, and promised to one another by fate’s hand. Fate worked hard to bring Grace back into my life. The least I can do is work hard to keep her.
I slide the photograph out of the album, slip it into my jacket pocket, and put the album back on the coffee table before heading outside. Hopefully, fresh air will help me figure out the right words, or maybe my mother can help me find my way back to Grace.
Outside, Frank Sinatra plays over the speakers. Hanson had mini speakers installed throughout the property, along with heaters, so no matter where people wandered, they would be warm and entertained. It is so Hanson, and it aggravates me because I enjoy the crooning of Ol’ Blue Eyes, but I don’t like that anyone has disturbed my mother’s gardens.
I glance down at my watch impatiently. Grace has been gone for nearly ten minutes. Maybe she changed her mind and snuck out front to avoid me, not that I would blame her.
“Having fun?” Cat asks, taking me by surprise.
